


How Far You Can Fly

by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes)



Series: Holly's Round Eight H/C Bingo Card [6]
Category: Prisoners of Peace Series - Erin Bow
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 04:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11372652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiasobi_writes/pseuds/hollyandvice
Summary: He's lost, yes. His parents, his home, his grandmother. His life itself was nearly forfeit before the Swan Riders came upon him, and he has no illusions about how weak his tenuous hold on his position will be when they return to the Red Mountains. Even Greta—precious Greta, for whom he'd give almost anything; for whom hehasgiven almosteverything—is not what she was.Elián reflects on the price he has paid for his life and for his ignorance.





	How Far You Can Fly

Oddly, it isn't the surgery that gets to Elián while he watches Michael— Talis— whatever it is— die. It isn't the surgery or the datastore or the (albeit terrifying) memory of being ridden. It's none of those things that gets to him. It's easy enough to forget those, the memory of being ridden easily buried in his mind, the scars from datastore and surgery alike easily hidden under his clothes. All that is easy enough to forget.

But the tattoo. That's much harder to ignore.

Elián stares at it on the ride to Precepture Four, the black ink vivid in the still-healing skin around it. Greta seems to still be having a hard enough time with horseback riding that she doesn't notice, or else has decided to leave him be when it comes to this. So he stares and stares and stares, the memory of the pain from the tattoo gun piercing his skin over and over and over vivid enough that it almost distracts him from what the tattoo gave him. He can feel the weight of what it cost him, can feel the pressure that comes from being a pawn, used and discarded in the Swan Riders' grand game, can feel the way he hasn't been his own man in far too long, but for all that has been taken from him, he can also see what he's gained.

He's lost, yes. His parents, his home, his grandmother. His life itself was nearly forfeit before the Swan Riders came upon him, and he has no illusions about how weak his tenuous hold on his position will be when they return to the Red Mountains. Even Greta—precious Greta, for whom he'd give almost anything; for whom he _has_ given almost _everything_ —is not what she was.

All of that was at the hands of Talis. Talis had taken him from his home and from his parents. Talis had taken the lives of his grandmother and Greta. Talis—Two, Greta had called it—had almost taken his life in the Red Mountains.

Talis had taken everything from him, and this tattoo marked him as ever in the AI's service.

And yet… and yet.

And yet Talis'— _Michael's_ will is all that had let him leave the Red Mountains to see to his care at the end of his life. So too had Michael's will kept him alive in the Red Mountains when Two would have killed him. And, for all that he had conspired against the AI, Michael's will had kept him alive at the Precepture. And then, as if that hadn't been enough, Michael's will had saved Greta's life.

Or, at least, it had saved Greta's life inasmuch as this Greta can be considered alive.

Against his will, he looks up from the tattoo and over at Greta where she's struggling with her horse. His heart swells, and he remembers that the tattoo doesn't only mark him as Talis' servant. It marks him as Greta's.

Loyalty, she'd said. She'd used a bigger word, strange in her mouth, as so many things about her were now, but. Loyalty. She'd said it meant loyalty.

Elián taps his heels against his horse, and she picks up her pace, coming up even with Greta's. "Do you need a hand, Princess?"

"I'm not a princess anymore, Elián. Haven't been for a while."

"Never hurts to try," he says, reaching out to adjust her grip on the reins. "Come on," he says, "there's plenty of light left."

Greta doesn't say anything, and the tattoo on his wrist pulses strangely, but somehow, Elián feels more content than he has in ages. It's not the life he envisioned for himself, but maybe it will be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. [Come hang with me on tumblr!](http://hollyandvice.tumblr.com/)


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